Absolutely Invincible British Hooligan
by RedGaliray
Summary: After going with England to a football match and being shocked by his behaviour, America calls England a hooligan. England is not pleased, so he decides to start a mission to prove once and for all that he's the ultimate gentleman.
1. The Hooligan

**Just an idea I got after listening to Absolutely Invincible British Gentleman again. Please review, every little criticism will help me greatly. By the way, English is not my native language so I beg your perdon for any possible mistakes. Re-uploaded due to some strange error with formatting. Sorry for any inconvenience.**

America watched England, thick sweat descending his forehead. The world superpower wouldn't admit it for all the hamburgers in the world (perhaps he would, but only if they came with fries) that England was now scaring him. America knew that the former superpower was still a formidable fighter, and still remembered vividly his different feats. However, not even when he was a young rebellious colony had he felt so much fear. No, England was not subjugating a colony (those were things of the times of old). He wasn't kicking Argentina's ass over some Islands in God-knows-where. No, England was doing something far worse… He was watching football and cheering for his team.

Now, most nations would laugh hysterically if they heard that America was trembling at the sight of England doing something so apparently harmless. The ones that knew, however, would tremble alongside him. They had warned him, but he, being a thickheaded idiot, didn't listen. But now he knew just how terrifying England could be when he was watching football.

"Oi, just shot already you –"America covered his ears just before another string of profanities began. He felt like he was a kid again, shelling himself from the insults usually uttered after some failure or seatback.

"U wot, m8? Did you see that America? The arbiter just gave a yellow card to him. How could he that little –"the profanities began again. America thought it was just convenient that England didn't see how his player tackled another player in a completely unjustified move.

America continued watching England. The game, to be truthful, didn't interest him that much and he couldn't see how it interested England either. Sure, his team was playing, but nothing was interesting if the greatest nation in the earth wasn't involved. He only accepted going with him out of pity. It's not that he wanted to spend time with Englan– dammit, America stopped his line of thought when he realized he was sounding just like his former protector.

At first the reactions of England and his people were entertaining to watch. America giggled to himself while watching them getting so heated up for some stupid match, ignoring how he himself often got really passionate over his own football (a real sport and the only one that deserved to bear that name!).

But now everything was just scary. Everyone was throwing insults left-and-right and they also were throwing other things, like beer cans and trash. Some were even burning the opposite team's flag and furiously shaking the fence, fence which America was sure was put there to stop them –how are they called?– from jumping into the field.

America winced as England started yet another tirade, peppered with "wanker", "bugger" –great, now America's craving for burgers increased– and… oh, God, did England just say the c-word?

America now wanted nothing more than going home. He had a stop in the gym scheduled, but that didn't matter now, he only wanted to go home. Perhaps he could stop in a McDonald's in the way, though. Ah, and then he could eat it in the gym so that he didn't stop his three day streak. America smiled and patted himself in the back. He had the best ideas.

The game continued but the insults didn't stop. How long was it before the game was over? He didn't know and that was driving him crazy. Not crazy enough to ask one of the people around him though. Hmm… he knew they had a name, a special one.

"Eh, watch it you Hooligans!" A guard near the fence yelled at several men who were hitting the fence.

That was it! Of course! They were the watchers, because they watched all the games! Wait, that wasn't completely right…

"Hooligan! How you dare call me you that, you wanker?" England started shouting, completely missing that it wasn't even directed at him. Of course, hooligan. The British hooligans were really infamous, but also a point of parody or mockery. Some people were fascinated by the fact that British people were either seen as the ultimate gentlemen of either drunken hooligans. That was, at least, what America had heard from Spain, before he started rambling about tourists and Gibraltar.

America finally knew that England wasn't a gentleman, but a hooligan! Well, he obviously knew that England wasn't a gentleman, but he wasn't sure what England was exactly. A drunken hooligan was the perfect description. Sometimes violent, prone to mood swings, loud and crude, the exact opposite of a gentleman. Oh God, America was going to have so much fun teasing him with that.

"What's wrong with you, you wanker? You should just bugger off!" America winced again. He wasn't stupid enough to try and tease England right now.

After what seemed like forever the match was over. Thank the heavens, because England's team won. England was –gasp!– smiling, surely thinking about how the other team were wankers and losers. When they were finally out of the stadium England turned to America.

"America, did you see that? We just crushed, I tell you, crushed those wankers!" England started, more excited than ever. He seemed to realize that, and caring now because the game was over, he stopped and started again, now slower and more relaxed. "America how did you like the game? It was a really great match, don't you agree?"

America jumped a little, still a little scared but he quickly changed to a neutral expression. A smile was creeping over it slowly though. England thought it was because he did enjoy the game, but it was really because America was getting his spirits back. He was remembering that he was taller than England, stronger than England and just how fun it was to tease him.

"I think so… hooligan". England had been smiling until he heard that. Immediately, in one of his famous mood swings, anger overpowered him. "Hooligan?" He asked, glaring at the younger nation.

"Yes, hooligan" America repeated, saying the last world slowly.

England exploded in fury and started shaking America while yelling loudly at him. It was remarkably similar to what had happened in the stadium, but America was no longer scared. He knew he could probably send good ol' England far away with ease if he wanted. Heck, he'd already done that accidentally several times.

After mentally omitting the insults, what England said was basically"U wot m8? I'm not a hooligan, I'm not! I'm a gentleman"

America laughed his obnoxious laugh before saying "You, a gentleman? England, I'm not a kid anymore…" England rolled his eyes before muttering "The only difference is that you don't wet your bed anymore, I hope". America ignored that and continued "…so you can't lie to me. I know you're not a gentleman. I just saw you acting like a hooligan"

England violently yelled at him, informing America of his perfect manners and polite demeanor, while also informing America of his tact and chivalry towards the ladies, only stopping to yell to a woman that dared interrupt him.

America finally decided that it was enough. Not enough of annoying England, of course, that doesn't ever get old, but enough of not eating some 100% beef McDonald's Burger (made in a laboratory). So America stopped England by taking his hands and, with a smirk, said "England, you're just a hooligan and there's no way you can convince me otherwise."

England glared at him with his big gentleman (or hooligan) eyebrows, before something seemingly clicked in his head. Whether it was his brain finally succumbing to America's idiocy or a light bulb, he got an idea.

"What if I can prove it to you?" America barely managed to stop his thoughts about fast food enough to listen to what England had just said. "Oh? And how would you do it?" He replied, immediately going back to his FREEDOM fries.

"I'll just get a testimony from someone, someone older and less… stupid that has known more for more time."

America frowned slightly, but not because of what England had said but because he remembered that FREEDOM fries are actually called French fries. And America and France are, like, antonyms.

"Are you listening to me twit?" England yelled.

"Yeah, alright, but that testimony can't be from one of your friends".

England smirked. He had no friends! Wait, that shouldn't be something to be happy for… America realized that as well and promptly amended the challenge. "The testimony must be from France, Germany, Russia, Japan or… I don't know someone who doesn't like you. I mean, nobody likes you, except Italy who likes everyone, but you know what I mean"

England finally allowed himself to smile, but it wasn't a happy smile. He shoved America back with all his strength, which meant that America stumbled back a little, and walked away. He would show him. He would show everyone that he was an absolutely invincible English Gentleman!


	2. In France

**Next chapter. I hope you enjoy this. Please let me know what you think in a review. Every little criticism will help me improve.**

'English Gentleman'? That doesn't sound completely right for some reason. British Gentleman! There, that's much better. Except that Scotland and Wales don't like it when he calls himself Britain, since he only represents English culture and whatever.

So the first step in England's master plan to prove once and for all that he's indeed a gentleman was to cross the channel. He really didn't want to see France, but he was the one closest to home. Besides, England was too drunk at the moment to try and prove that he's not a drunken hooligan, so he decided to go home. He had to stop at the pub first though.

After a quick stop at his favorite pub and then a few hours of self pity while buried deep in his bed, England took all the necessary preparations for his trip, which he hoped would be quick. Namely one of his best outfits and some rum. He quickly went to the station for the channel tunnel and took a seat in the train.

He hadn't slept well last night though, so he fell asleep in his seat. After a while he woke up and went out. He was greeted by a truly disgusting sign. Prostitutes where freely roaming the streets, drunken men were lying in the streets, the smell was terrible and, worst of all, the nearby restaurants seemed to serve toxic waste. England frowned profusely and, with his hands in his hips and shaking his head, he said "Ah France, now I remember why I hate you so much…"

Before he could start a tirade against the so called Country of Love someone yelled at him "We're in England you connard!" England went white and glanced around, realizing that, effectively, he was still in his home.

"Wha-at?" He stammered, sheepishly going back to the station. He forced himself to stay awake through the trip and after arriving at the station in France he took a cab to Paris.

England then walked through the streets of Paris looking for France. It wasn't easy. He couldn't just ask around for France, and he had no idea if he was even there. Knowing France, he would probably be elsewhere trying to strip down or grope a nation.

He finally stumbled upon France, who was in a cafe. He was, predictably, trying to harass a girl. England decided not to go straight away and demand an acknowledgement of his gentleman status, but to stay by the window and watch. Witnessing France failing to get a girl and possibly being slapped would be really funny!

France continued to talk to the girl. She was really pretty, with a round face, fair features and a nice dress that really accentuated her figure. England hated to admit it, but even he recognized that French women could be very beautiful. England decided to continue watching without thinking of anything, lest he started to lust and had to stop for an underwear magazine or something –after all it was improper of a gentleman to buy porn, so he had to do with the poor man's version.

So he continued watching the scene unfold. France was smiling, with his hand in his chin and his body slightly inclined towards the girl. He was saying something but England couldn't hear it and he didn't dare actually go inside the café. The girl blushed after France finished speaking. She seemed really flustered and embarrassed. She then moved a little closer to France, her face still red. Oh, here it comes!

However, to England's horror and surprise, she actually started kissing France very passionately. People around the café start to dirty look at them, and they seemed to realize but not before a solid fifteen minutes of smooching. England was just standing there, without words due to the surprise. It was very obvious now that he was looking to the interior of the café, but he just couldn't move.

France, with the girl under his arm, started to exit the café. England finally reacted and tried to move away but it was too late. France saw him, his face still white and surprise evident in his face. France raised an eyebrow and briefly wondered if England had anything to do with the girl –whose name was Alice– before quickly dismissing that ridiculous possibility. He decided to simply ignore England– he knew that if it were really important England, being a rude punk, wouldn't have waited for him to finish his date.

He allowed himself to smirk to England as they passed though; also knowing England would probably interpret that in the worst possible way. Obviously, England did just that, interpreting that smirk as an insult to not only his virility and intelligence, but to his love life –though it was difficult to insult something that didn't exist.

Miraculously England managed to contain himself and not go to strangulate France. He didn't want to involve the girl, who would probably call the police if she saw a stranger assaulting her date. He didn't fear the police; all the nations had immunity to almost everything and he would probably be released right away, but it was still an unnecessary hindrance that would rob him of precious time. Thus he decided to only follow France and then confront him when he was alone.

Although he liked to pride himself as a good spy, England was no James Bond. France easily realized England was following him. He didn't know why. Following him to a hotel to see his sexual progress didn't seem to be something England would do. Japan would perhaps do that, but France knew that Italy had forced him into a trip to somewhere. Hungary wasn't interested unless the sex was with another man, so England couldn't be acting under her orders. Besides, England was too proud to actually act under the orders of another nation, so he must have been acting out of his own volition. Still, France had no interest in dealing with him right now. He wanted to spend some time with Alice first.

Alice was, actually, quite an interesting woman. Besides being physically attractive, she actually was capable of intellectual conversation and had a good taste for wine and books. "And men…" France thought while smirking to himself. Most people thought that France was a perverts. And that was true, it's just that he also enjoyed other things and having some good conversation was nice.

After a while France and Alice arrived at the hotel and entered. England decided to stay in a nearby café, waiting for France to exit so that he could confront him. He ordered a cup of tea and sat down to wait.


	3. Confronting France

Thirteen cups of tea and even some rum later, and France wasn't outside yet. England was on the border of hanging himself. He couldn't believe it…

After a very, very long wait France finally exited the hotel, the girl still under his arm. Her hair wasn't as neatly combed as before, and she seemed a little flustered but happy all the same. France, likewise, seemed to be tired but pleased. Jealously briefly coursed through England before he decided to send everything to hell and confront France, girl o no girl. Besides, he didn't have any more rum.

"Eh France!" England yelled furiously while running towards his fellow nation. France frowned slightly in displeasure, but then changed his expression to a smile. He would be caught dead before letting Iggy ruin his day.

"Hi Iggy. What do you want?" He said in English, so that Alice wouldn't understand him. Conversations with England invariable ended in a mad rambling of insults and innuendo, especially when he had been drinking. And judging by the bottle of rum in his hand, he had.

"Did he just call you "France"?" Alice asked softly. Curse the similarities between both languages! "No, it's just that he's a stupid Brit that hasn't quite figured that Francis with an outrageous accent" he replies. Alice merely nodded, before nuzzling her head in France's neck. That felt nice…

England reached them and started his demand "France, I don't have any time to explain the situation to you, but I need you to recognize…" England stopped himself just short of saying 'my superiority' because he realized there was no way France would cede that way. He decided to start again "France, I was at a football game with America…"

France gasped suddenly; worry covering his eyes "Is he at the hospital? He's okay right?"

England was surprised. People seemed to think he was some kind of monster at games… like a… No!

"You too France!" He said furiously, taking France's shit and trying to lift him. Unfortunately, it takes more than fury to become stronger unless you're Hulk, and England is not Hulk. He stumbled back and almost fell, but fortunately France was firmer and he remained standing. Unfortunately, he was a little pissed so he took England's hands off him and let him fall into the ground.

France was not pissed because England had come to assault him while drunk. After the tenth time you just stop caring and decide to have fun. No, he was pissed because he was apparently frightening Alice. She had most likely seen her fair share of drunken idiots, especially drunk British idiots (curse the tunnel!) but none quite like England, who was by far the one… not most impressive, not most violent, not most threatening, but the most ridiculous one with those eyebrows and almost dancing movements.

"Francis, could we please go?" France turned to Alice and with some well practiced affection put his hand in her cheek. "Don't worry; he's a friend of mine. Well, not quite a friend, more like an acquaintance, but I know he won't do anything to us" he said.

England finally stood up and after an unsuccessful attempt at drying his clothes, he started again "I didn't do anything to America, but after the game he called me a hooligan"

"I can't believe it…" France said, though his expression was more bored than surprised. England however was truly surprised that France for once seemed to take his side "I know, right?" He said, feeling some cockiness return to him.

"Oui, I've always thought you were only a punk". France teased, a smirk playing in his lips. England, oh surprise, got angry and tried to grab France's shirt again, but he failed and fell again. Alice couldn't help laughing, it was just hilarious! This one was by far the funniest assault by a drunken punk in which she had ever participated and she'd had many. However, Alice stopped her thoughts and reflected that the fact she'd had so many assaults by drunken punks was somewhat worrying.

England stood again and decided that falling to the ground wasn't proper for a gentleman -assaulting couples and getting drunk was, apparently- and after putting himself together he started again… again.

"Look France, I only need you to do one thing, to recognize that I'm a gentleman and that's it"

France stared at him for a couple of seconds before breaking down laughing. England just stood there, gapping, too indignated to even feel fury. Alice was just confused, so she decided to ask.

"Il a dit quoi, Francis?" She asked, obviously in French. England cursed himself momentarily; his French was a bit rusty so he didn't really understand her.

France forced himself to stop in order to answer "Il a dit que je dois dire qu'il est un gentleman!" he managed to say before starting to laugh again. Much to England's chagrin, Alice also started to laugh hysterically shortly thereafter.

"Come on! I am a Gentleman!" He said, trying desperately to hold onto some dignity. France denied him even that "You're not England, so stop trying to convince me or yourself for that matter". He held back a laugh before continuing "You're crude, obnoxious; don't treat the ladies well and above all a drunken punk. Yes, that's all you are. Though I find myself although agreeing with America here and think you are..." He smirked and then turned, a still laughing Alice following him. From above his shoulder he said "… a hooligan". With a final obnoxious 'honhonhon' he left, leaving a mortified England with no dignity whatsoever alone in the street.


End file.
